


The Hard Way

by fools_seldom_write



Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fools_seldom_write/pseuds/fools_seldom_write
Summary: J. Jonah Jameson learns the hard way you shouldn't walk through Central Park alone at night. Good thing Spider-Man is there to save him.





	The Hard Way

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what counts as graphic violence/rape. But since it's in there, I tagged it properly just to be sure.

With hindsight, Jameson should have turned the other way as soon as he saw the group of drunk teenagers wearing Spider-Man masks. Those kind of costumes were never a good sign, and neither were groups of drunks, especially not at night. They seemed to have come from a costume party or something, and they seemed to have had a few too many, and they seemed to be looking for trouble. But Jameson didn't turn the other way, because he wasn't a coward, because he wouldn't run away from some dumb kids playing dress-up. Well, now he wished he had.

He had stopped counting the punches and kicks they had thrown at him, but at this point, he was barely conscious anymore, and they knew that too. They stopped with the violence, just pinned him down, talking too quietly for him to understand. Then he could feel his pants being ripped down and he began to struggle again, without success. That was the first time he began yelling for help, until a hand over his mouth shut him up for good, and they continued as they were, and as the first one began forcing himself into him, he realized that no one would come to save him. Even if someone had heard him, they wouldn't care, or would be too afraid.

In this moment, he thought he would die, and he hated the idea of dying like this, with no friends or family by his side, dying with a dick in his ass. He didn't want to give them that, didn't want them to win. Didn't want Spider-Man to win.

But that was when it happened. He didn't realize at first, was too focused on breathing and ignoring the pain all over his body and trying not to die, but when he opened his eyes and saw only half of the guys around him anymore, he knew something was wrong. Everything was loud all of the sudden, screams and the noise of fighting in his ears. He needed to see what was going on, but his vision was all blurry and he couldn't stay focused and he just kept lying there, breathing and hoping that whatever was happening was a good thing. Hoping that he wouldn't die.

Maybe a minute or so later, another person moved into his vision, another Spider-Man mask, and he silently accepted his fate, accepted that he would die here. He was too tired to fight, and he would sure as hell not scream for help anymore. Not wanting anyone to see him like this, he just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.

"You okay?"

Jameson blinked. He took a closer look at that Spider-Man mask, with so much more detail than the others had, attached to a whole Spider-Man suit. Someone put effort into this.

When he first opened his mouth to say something, he could feel blood running out of it and down to his chin, from where it dripped into the grass beneath him. "Who are you?" He croaked, barely able to speak. A part of him knew already, a part of him had known since he realized something was going on, it had been there at the back of his head, _Spider-Man's here, Spider-Man's here to save me_. Which was a ridiculous thought, of course.

"I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." The figure in the suit answered, not at all muffled through the fabric.

What a ridiculous world he lived in, where Spider-Man saved him. Well, did he? "You here to finish the job?" Jameson almost smiled, but his whole face burned with pain already and he could barely move any of his muscles. A part of him almost wished Spider-Man was here to finish the job. He would be right, then, finally having his death as the absolute proof, and people could no longer turn away. A part of him almost wished Spider-Man was here to finish the job, because he didn't want to live with the knowledge that it was his arch-enemy of all people who had seen him like this, and who had saved him.

"I'm here to help you." Spider-Man said, as if it was obvious, as if it was as simple as that. "I'll get you to a hospital."

His muscles still didn't work right, but the moment Spider-Man touched him, he managed to hit him, landed a punch too weak to cause damage even to someone without superpowers. He briefly wondered if Spider-Man had even noticed.

"Don't fucking touch me." He growled, or wanted to growl, his voice too weak to get it across.

But Spider-Man did notice, and he did stop. How considerate, and abolutely out-of-character for him. "But I need to get you to a hospital." He protested. His voice sounded faintly familiar, pleading with him like this. Nothing Jameson could think about now.

He tried to move and couldn't. Tried to get up and get away, but he was trapped by the limitations of his own, broken body. He closed his eyes as he felt wetness in them, squeezed them shut when he felt even the slightest sign of tears. Spider-Man had already seen too much, he would not see him cry, not ever. "Leave me alone." It was meant to sound fierce but it just sounded pathetic, almost came across as begging. Jameson let his head fall into the grass and patiently waited for Spider-Man to ignore his pleads, to touch him, to pick him up, to do god-knows-what with him. He kept waiting.

"I can't leave you here." Spider-Man said, his voice calm but firm. Easy for him when he wasn't the one who got beaten up and... well, beaten up. "You will die."

This time, Jameson managed a faint smile. "Then let it be so." He whispered. He felt the tears behind his eyelids building up, he felt his whole body shaking, he was way too aware of the dried blood between his asscheeks and on his thighs. Judging by the alternative, maybe this was a good time and place to die.

It took Spider-Man a moment to answer. He seemed somewhat shocked, baffled by Jameson's lack of survival instinct or will to live. "That's not gonna happen." How noble and righteous he was. "I'm sorry." He made it sound like it wasn't a lie.

Jameson did his best to fight back when he felt Spider-Man's hands on his body again, squirming underneath his touch as he got closer to his still exposed ass, not being able to stop the tears from running down his cheeks anymore. He tried to punch and kick but to no avail, and Spider-Man grabbed his pants and yanked them up, covering him again, and a broken sob of something close to relief escaped Jameson's mouth.

"Not the hospital." He said, trying and failing to blink away his tears. "Everything but the hospital. Please." He was only partly aware that he was begging, begging Spider-Man. "They can't see, they can't know, please."

He didn't know what was going on in Spider-Man's mind at his words, but he couldn't hope for him to understand, or care. Spider-Man picked him up carefully, and the world started spinning around him as he began to swing, everything getting too much at once and then there was nothing anymore, just endless blackness consuming him whole.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up again was the softness of whatever it was he was lying on, and his mind jumped straight to hospital bed, because of course he would be in a hospital bed, and he began to panic as memories of what happened flooded him. He could already see the headline on the Daily Bugle, _Famous reporter J. Jonah Jameson attacked and raped, then saved by his arch-enemy Spider-Man_. _Read the article by Mary Jane Watson for all the dirty details of Jameson getting a dick forced into him._

Sure, why would Spider-Man have listened to him. He said he would get him to a hospital, he didn't care what Jameson wanted. He never did. He had probably bragged about saving him, too. Couldn't have been eager enough to tell everyone about how he saved J. Jonah Jameson from being raped. What a hero.

"You awake?" It was Spider-Man's voice, he recognized it, but it was also someone else's voice that he knew, somewhere at the back of his head. Sure, Spider-Man was still here, wanted to mock him further, rub it in that he brought him to a hospital. That everyone knew.

Jameson opened his eyes, only to find not Spider-Man, but instead Peter Parker. He blinked, squinted at the man in front of him, trying to get his brain to work properly. He remembered how oddly familiar Spider-Man's voice had seemed. Peter Parker. One of his best photographers back at the Daily Bugle. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. And now what to do with that information?

"I thought you might not want to see a Spider-Man mask first thing after waking up." Peter said.

Jameson didn't know what to say, didn't even know what to think. Why would Peter expose his identity like this, to him of all people? Didn't he know the risk? Didn't he care?

Jameson slowly got the feeling he wasn't actually in a hospital. He looked around the room for the first time. It was a normal bedroom of a normal young adult, of Peter. He was in Peter Parker's bedroom. Despite the indications of this realization, he couldn't help feeling relieved. No Daily Bugle headline then.

"You kidnapped me." Jameson said. His throat felt way too dry, and he found a glass of water on the nightstand, downing it instantly in a few gulps.

"I mean." Peter hesitated, looking away awkwardly. "I did, kind of. But you said everything but the hospital. And you're free to go whenever. I'm not gonna hold you here."

"I'd hope so." A strange part of Jameson wanted to thank him for actually listening and not getting him to a hospital. Or for saving him in general. But that wasn't gonna happen. "Still kidnapping, though."

"Sorry." Peter said.

Jameson sat up completely now and began to inspect his own body. He was still hurting, but the pain was far less than before, and the burning of his wounds felt almost pleasant in a way. Peter must have disinfected them. He found band-aids and bandages all over, his own skin colored red and blue and yellow poking out underneath. Spider-Man had saved his life, there was no way around that. And despite everything that had happened, he was glad to be alive.

"I'd still recommend going to a hospital, though." Peter said. "I have some experience treating wounds, but I'm not a real doctor."

Jameson looked at him. If he had tried to picture what Spider-Man looked like under his mask before, it would have been far from this. Peter was all soft and kind and considerate and _self-conscious_. That didn't really fit in with his narrative of the masked vigilante. "Why didn't you bring me to a hospital?" He asked. He had fully expected him to, after all. Why would he have cared about the ramblings of a half-dead man?

"Because you asked me not to." Peter answered, as if it was obvious. But Jameson knew that this wasn't all there was to it. It didn't explain why he had actually listened to him.

"You didn't have to waste your time trying to fix me." Jameson said. "You didn't have to reveal your identity to your enemy, someone who constantly tries to make you look bad." He looked at Peter, challenging him.

Peter avoided his gaze. "Well, despite what you think, I actually do care about the people I save." If it was meant to sound witty, he miserably failed at that. His voice was quiet, and he looked down.

"Especially when you're the reason they have to be saved in the first place." Jameson didn't really manage to sound witty either. At least he had the excuse of having almost died a few hours ago.

Peter didn't disagree as expected, though. He seemed embarrassed at best. "I'm sorry." He said, catching Jameson more than just off-guard. This new unpredictability of Spider-Man made him angry.

"What are you on about?" Jameson asked, a little louder than he probably should have. He would have expected Spider-Man to hold what happened against him forever, insisting he couldn't badmouth him anymore now that he had been saved by him. He would have expected anything but an apology. What was he apologizing for?

Peter swallowed visibly. "You were right." He said, his voice no more than a whisper. "These people who... assaulted you, they were wearing my mask. They... attacked you because you are critical towards me. It was my fault." Were there tears in his eyes? Surely not.

Jameson scoffed. He hated the pity he felt towards Spider-Man, towards Peter, for the first time ever. He hated that he couldn't hate him like before. "You know it's all bullshit, right?" He asked. Peter looked at him, confused. Jameson continued unfazed. "What I say in my stupid little podcast? It's bullshit. Sure, you have no problem with violence against criminals, and your presence in New York does attract supervillains." He stopped and shook his head. "But come on... You couldn't possibly believe this is your fault."

Peter had made himself extremely vulnerable when he exposed his true identity to his enemy like that. It only felt right for Jameson to reveal something like this in return. "At worst, you're a minor annoyance to the general population of this city. At best, you have saved a lot of lives, including mine." Jameson breathed out and avoided looking at Peter. He couldn't believe he just said that. It had been long overdue, though. Ever since Devil's Breath, he deserved to have someone tell it like it is. No unnecessary praise, no bullshit badmouthing. Just the facts. It felt right.

"But those people in Central Park..." Peter began, in a weak attempt to disagree with Jameson.

"...were lunatics." Jameson interrupted him. "You didn't make them do anything. These people were only searching for an excuse to attack someone. They could have used anything to justify their actions."

Peter remained silent after that, seemingly speechless. The silence filling the room became uncomfortable quickly.

"So." Jameson said finally. "Can I use your shower before I go to the hospital?"


End file.
